Rock of Ages

If you went to Cedarville or know Michael and I at all, you know why we had to take this photo.

We hopped out of the car and left it running. We ran to the courthouse steps--two years earlier, almost to the day, I'd confessed my love for MIke and he'd said 'no--and hopped up on the second step. We sat. Wait, no, that's not how it went.

"You need to pace around all anxious," Mike suggested. I jumped up and paced with a worried look on my face. I looked up, expecting to find Mike laughing at me, but instead I was suddenly in his arms and he kissed me.

"I'm so sorry for everything I said that night," he said, his nose still pressed against mine. I grinned.

The night before our wedding, my siblings and I had toasted champagne and wondered aloud when they could release Mike from the guilt trips they gave him about messing with me for so long. Was the wedding a good enough time? Then again, it hadn't even been a year. Did he feel bad enough yet? Had he made enough amends by marrying me?

I demanded that I decide.

I've decided.

The whole trip was worth it just to lean against Mike's shoulder on Interstate 70.